Feature Presentation
by Nienna Nir
Summary: December's a time for friends and family, a time for tradition. And, if you're an Avenger, a time for exploding Christmas decorations to interfere with your evening. Part of the Series: Coulson Lives, but the Avengers might be the death of him.


Thor's booted feet landed on the sidewalk with a gravely crunch. He paused, taking one slow step off the curb, his other foot following. Without preamble he sank to the street, his elbows resting loosely on his knees, Mjölnir dangling from his grip. A cold wind ruffled his hair and he sighed. Bare feet crossed the sidewalk toward him, hesitating a moment before approaching. Bruce hunched down beside him in tattered pants, his chest bare as he shivered in the winter air. Thor pulled up the corner of his cape without a word, draping it over the other man's shoulders. Bruce gave him a shy sideways glance and Thor let out a chuckle.

"Are you bleeding?" Captain America asked in disbelief, blinking in wonderment at the gash in Thor's forehead as he trudged over the debris strewn street to stand before them. Thor shrugged with an easy roll of his shoulders as Bruce looked away, his cheeks flushing.

"Can we officially rename Manhattan 'Crazy Town'?" Tony demanded, landing on the street with a rumble of repulser fire and a harsh clank, Hawkeye in tow. Clint stepped off his boot, stretch his bow arm and rubbing it absently as Natasha strode up from the other side. Steve didn't answer as he pulled off his cowl, running his fingers through his hair.

"Because this has got to be one of the single most stupid things I've ever been involved in," Tony continued without missing a beat.

"You haven't seen your youtube footage then," Clint remarked, Natasha bit her lip to hold in her laugh.

"Are you actually bleeding?" Tony asked Thor, his lip curling as he reached out to poke the Asgardian in the forehead. Bruce's blush deepened and he glanced up at Thor warily. The blond let out a snort of amusement.

"Sorry about your head," Bruce apologized, looking away. Tony let out a choked sound, grinning as Steve waffled between concerned and amused.

"Are we done here?" Natasha sighed. "I have a… thing."

"A thing?" Tony asked sardonically. "You mean like a date? You don't date." Natasha shot him a withering look.

"We need to debrief," Steve reminded, accepting a water as Phil approached them, passing out bottles and handing Bruce a winter coat. Clint let out a groan.

"Can't we debrief tomorrow?" he whined. "I'm dirty and tired and there's tinsel in my hair." He paused glaring at Natasha as she pulled a sparkly silver strand from his head.

"I'd just as soon get it out of the way," Tony snorted. "As a matter of fact, I don't want to think about today at all, ever."

"It wasn't that bad, Tony," Bruce protested.

"We were attacked by mechanical Santas!" Tony growled.

"And homicidal Christmas trees," Clint rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone and frowning at it.

"The stag with the shining red nose was a fearsome and magnificent beast," Thor remarked, Clint's face scrunched up in suppressed laughter as Natasha sighed.

"Are you bleeding?" Phil asked, cringing. Thor let out a genuine giggle, elbowing Bruce playfully.

"I said I was sorry," Bruce protested, taking the offered first aid kit from Coulson.

"Plans boys," Natasha reminded, scowling at them. Phil checked his watch, his jaw ticking.

"It's eleven pm on a Thursday," Tony observed. "Doesn't that make it a booty call at this point?"

"Tony," Steve shot him a warning look.

"I'm an authority on Booty Calls," Tony defended. "I would know!"

"It's possible to have plans without sex being involved," Phil pointed out. Tony stared back at him as if he didn't quite believe him.

"Maybe we could do most of the debrief on the way back to the tower," Steve suggested, looking every bit as tired as the rest of the team.

"I don't see any reason we can't do the debrief tomorrow," Phil admitted. "It isn't as if we're likely to forget any of this soon." Steve stared at him in confusion.

"What?" Phil asked worriedly.

"He's trying to decide if you're a pod person," Tony replied with a frown. "Am I the only one without a hot date tonight?"

"If I sulk and whine can I go home?" Clint asked hopefully.

"You're bleeding," Natasha observed with a frown. Phil grasped the back of Clint's neck, pulling him in to scowl at a smudge of read on the bridge of his nose.

"You should have medical check that," he ordered.

"It's just a scratch," Tony declared, pulling a face. He looked down at the curb where Bruce was cleaning out the gash in Thor's forehead as the blond grinned happily. "And since when are you the enforcement committee?"

"It's not that bad," Clint began. Phil gave him a sharp tug, pointing Clint's face at Natasha.

"It looks infected," Phil insisted. "Does it look infected?"

"It looks infected," Natasha nodded in agreement. Steve and Tony exchanged wide eyed looks of utter confusion. "You need to go into Medical right now." She gave Clint her most withering look, her eyes narrowing to bare slits.

"Yeah…" Clint seemed to think a moment before hunching his shoulders in a pitiful expression. "Now that you mention it, I don't feel so good. Maybe I should have it looked at, just in case."

"Are you kidding me?" Tony rolled his eyes. "I've had paper cuts deeper than that!"

"I broke three ribs last week and no one said anything," Steve muttered.

"Seriously?" Tony demanded. "When the hell was this?"

"There are a host of contaminants on the battlefield," Phil asserted. "Any one of them could be deadly."

"Get us transport," Natasha advised, grasping Clint's arm and hustling him away. "Let's get you to Medical."

"Right, I'm on it," Phil nodded sharply, scurrying ahead, his hand pressed to his earpiece.

"What about the debrief?" Steve called after them, blinking dazedly, but Phil didn't answer, he was already climbing into the nearest SHIELD vehicle as Natasha shoved Clint into the back.

"What the hell was that?" Tony demanded, waving a hand in the general direction of their retreating teammates.

"I have no idea," Steve shook his head.

"Perhaps there is a yuletide tradition they wish to keep," Thor suggested. "Did I not see on the Television that warriors gather at midnight in the Halls of the Great Patrick?"

"That's midnight mass, Thor," Steve winced as Tony bit back a laugh. "And that's… you know what? Never mind."

"You want to know what I think?" Tony asked with a grin.

"No one wants to know what you think, Tony," Bruce replied with an apologetic look. "You've already scarred Captain America for life. Once is enough."

"My dates never say that," Tony insisted. Steve's cheeks turned pink as Thor's shoulders shook in silent laughter. Bruce only rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"I can sum that conversation up in three words," Tony insisted, folding armored arms over his chest. "Agent Black Hawk." Steve let out a groan.

"Why did Darcy ever introduce you to Tumblr?" he sighed.

* * *

"That was so close I don't even want to think about it," Phil admitted, letting his head loll back in the theater chair with a groan and setting his soda in the cup holder as he rubbed his eyes. He slouched, his warm gray "Haldir Lives" hoodie riding up unnoticed.

"I swear to Eru that if they call us out next year I'm quitting," Clint declared, shoveling nachos into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in days. "Damnit I got cheese on my shirt." He handed the last of the nachos to Phil, rubbing cheese off of the P in "Still the Prettiest."

"We are going to get so much grief tomorrow," Phil sighed, picking at Clint's nachos.

"I'm serious," Clint insisted. "I feel like I've been waiting for these films all my life."

"Honestly, Clint it's only been a year," Natasha huffed, shuffling over the patrons on the end of the row. "Hold the popcorn," she ordered, plunking a two gallon bucket into Clint's lap and shucking the leather coat she wore over her bright green shirt, emblazoned with "Isengard Swim Club - Team Ent". She melted into the chair beside him, wriggling a moment to get comfortable before folding her feet neatly on the safety rail in front of them.

"And it was nine years before that," Clint sulked, munching a fistful of popcorn.

"I know, I was there for that one too," She remarked, sipping her soda and diving into the popcorn bowl. "I can't believe you found three seats together."

"Clint distracted some teenagers so I could slip past them," Phil admitted.

"Archers are big in this fandom," Clint shrugged. "Did you guys see that Orc with the Warg in the lobby?"

"That is some badass cosplay," Natasha declared as Phil nodded.

"I don't even want to think about the hours that went into that," Phil admitted, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

"Respect," Clint agreed, high-fiving Natasha. There was a contented pause that washed over them as the completely full theater buzzed in excitement around them

"For the next one, you should dress up as Galadriel," Clint suggested finally, breaking their silence. Phil groaned.

"So you can be Legolas?" Natasha taunted.

"That's too cliche," he wrinkled his nose. "I'm going to be Kili."

"It takes actual work Barton," Phil stated sternly. "Cosplay is an art form."

"You can be Gandalf," Natasha grinned at him. Phil didn't reply, his jaw working in silence as he turned his eyes back toward the screen.

"I'll think about it," he admitted finally. If he noticed their fist bump, he ignored it as the lights went down.

* * *

**Note:**

This story is part of a series called "Coulson Lives but the Avengers Might be the Death of him." The full list of stories and their chronological order can be found on my profile page


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